Father's Day
by FFcrazy15
Summary: Fr. Mulcahy writes home to his sister Cathy about the events over the course of Father's Day, including the visit from the orphans, a party for Col. Potter, and a surprise that he will never forget. F*L*O*C*K 4077 piece.


Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended. Sorry if the Korean translations are wrong; Google Translate is notorious for misspelling and poor grammatical conversions. God bless you all, and I hope you enjoy it!

**M*A*S*H**

_Dear Sis,_

_ In response to your last letter, yes, it does get very hot over here during the summer. We all complain about it at great length when it starts- I'll admit that unfortunately I do my fair share of the griping- but by winter we'll be mourning the loss of the hot weather, so I try to remember I'm supposed to enjoy it._

_With Father's Day just around the corner, the whole camp is buzzing with activity. It's interesting how the small holidays that seemed so irrelevant back home take on a greater meaning here. Christmas and Easter of course are always larger celebrated, but things like Memorial Day have predictably become more important._

_ I do feel bad for Hawkeye, however. His father is his only living family; no wife, no child, not even siblings. He apparently went to great lengths to show his love, and holds this holiday in high regard._

_ When you go to Mom's and Dad's graves this year, please place an extra rose for me? It would mean a great deal._

"Ugh," Hawkeye grumbled, lifting his shirt and trying to fan himself half-heartedly. "This is ridiculous. Father, can't you tell your boss upstairs that the AC is broken down here?"

"You think that's bad, try wearing black all day long," I quipped, wiping my brow. "And two collars."

"Listen to this," B.J. said, happier than most present at the lunch table. "Peg says Erin's sent me Father's Day presents over the mail. They should be here in a few months. Oh, and she enclosed a card!" He pulled out a construction-paper card with glitter and stickers on it. As he read the orange-crayon message on the inside, he started to beam. "God, she's such a sweet kid. Can't spell a thing so she tries to sound it out, and Peg has to translate at the bottom."

"Is it Father's Day already?" I asked, taking a drink of the powdered milk.

"Yeah; I sent my dad a card and a gift and everything," Hawkeye said happily. "I got him this paper weight you can put a picture into, and I got a photo of the whole camp and had it put it. What about you, Father; you send your parents gifts?"

A melancholy pang pulled at my heart; both my parents died when I was quite young, from drinking complications. "No; mine both passed on a while ago. Cathy and I used to go lay a rose each at their gravesites, but I suppose that's not an option this year."

_ With the heat come mosquitos, which means an increase in diseases caused by blood-born pathogens, especially malaria. We issue free vaccinations to all the locals who ask, and Sr. Theresa has gratefully accepted our offer. The orphans, however, are not quite as grateful, poor things. Many of them fear the vaccinations, though how they can still be afraid of something as small as a shot after all the terror and pain they have seen baffles me. The innocence of children, even in difficult circumstances, is an equally beautiful and heartbreaking thing._

_"Abeoji! Abeoji!" _a girl said, running up, arms extended.

I picked her up, startled. "What is it, child? Is something wrong?"

"She's afraid of the shot," Sr. Theresa said, walking forward. _"Ai ja , nan danji jamsi dong-an sangcheoleul yagsogdeulibnida." ("Come, child, I promise it will only hurt for a moment")._

The girl shook her head fearfully, and Theresa sighed. "See what I mean?"

I bit my lip, thinking for a moment. Then, I said, "Tell her I will hold her hand while she gets the shot, and that afterword the doctors will give her a special treat."

Theresa nodded. _"Geuneun son-eul gaechoehanda,_ _geuligo uisa-ege gwajaleul jul geos-ida ."_

The child pursed her lips, and then nodded, still looking afraid. I carried over to the chair and sat down with her on my lap. Hawkeye walked over and smiled kindly, but the girl shrank back, still wary.

I ruffled her hair and gave her a reassuring smile, before taking her arm gently and extending it. I held her free hand while Hawkeye injected the shot, and then said, "I promised her a treat; there's a box of sugar cookies from Seoul in my tent." I looked around, and saw many other children fussing. "Perhaps it would help them calm down, as well?"

"Good idea. Hey, Klinger, can you go get the box of cookie's in Mulcahy's tent? Maybe it'll help the kids."

"It's in my second desk drawer," I added, raising a pair of fingers.

"On it." The clerk hurried out of the post-Op room.

_They arrived just at the right time; fighting has developed in an area too close to the orphanage for comfort, so the good sisters and the children will be staying with us for a few days. I do wish you could meet Sr. Theresa, Sis; she and the others possess that same inner joy as you, and I think you would get along wonderfully._

_ Since the children are staying with us, the whole camp has been working hard to incorporate them in a surprise party we're planning for Colonel Potter. He's sort of a father to many of us here, and an excellent leader. The sisters are ecstatic about the whole idea and have gotten in on the planning._

"Klinger, do you have the sign made?" Margaret asked, running down a checklist.

"Yes ma'am," Klinger said with a grin.

"Sister Joan, did you inform the cook about the cake?"

"Yes, Miss Houlihan," the Korean sister said with a worried expression. "He say he make cake, but I not think he happy."

"None of us will be happy if we have to eat a cake made by that ignoramus," Charles harrumphed.

"Sister Clare is a very good cook," I interjected. "Perhaps she could help him make the cake?"

"Good thinking; even he won't be rude to a nun."

"Sister," I corrected automatically.

"Huh?"

"She's a sister, not a nun. There's a diff-" When I saw the confusion on the doctor's face, I chuckled and shook my head. "Never mind. The important thing is that we end up with an edible cake."

"Cake?" a voice said from the far end of the post-Op room. We all whirled around. Col. Potter was looking back at us with an expression of mild puzzlement.

"Oh, yes!" Sr. Joan said hastily. "How you say- cake? Small cake?" she made a circle with her hands.

"You mean cookies?"

"Yes, cookies! Father Francis's cookies, for children." She gave him a beaming smile. "He say he have extra to give."

"Oh, I see. Well, carry on, folks." We all held our breath as he checked a few charts, releasing it in a collective sigh as soon as he left.

"Joan, you are a genius," Hawkeye said with a grin.

She ducked her head in mild embarrassment and glanced at me. "Perhaps Father and I talk later?"

"Somehow I don't think it's necessary," I said with a grin. "Now, about that cake…"

_I'm in the Mess now, Sis, and I tell you, with this many people knowing one secret, it's hard to keep without being suspicious. Thank goodness the children don't speak English, or we'd really be in trouble._

_ Sometimes, surrounded by all these children, I wonder what it could be like as an ordinary man. I know you can relate. I discussed it with Sr. Theresa; she responded much the same way I think you would have._

"May I sit here?" Sr. Theresa asked us, gesturing to the table.

"Go ahead," B.J. said, scooting over so the woman could take a seat. She sat down with her tray and touched her head, making the Sign of the Cross. I followed her example, both of us murmuring the meal prayer. She took a bite of the carrots (which were a dull shade of orangey-brown) and said, "Oh my!"

"Sorry, the food here stinks," Hawkeye said. "In more ways than one."

"No, no! This is very good!" she said, delighted. I chuckled. As she continued eating, Igor approached our table.

"Colonel," he said, "We're sort of out of food."

"Out of food?" the doctor said, frowning. "How in the blazes could we be out of food?"

"Just for the moment," Igor amended. "We didn't account for all the children, so we only made enough for the camp. The cook's working on it right now, but some kids are still waiting and they're getting hungry."

"Leave it to me," I spoke up. I looked around and spotted a few kids standing in line at the empty serving table. _"Eolin-i!"_

The children looked over in my direction. I waved and called the word again, and they ran up. I gestured towards my tray and lowered it. Theresa, catching on, did the same. The children's faces split into grins, and they hurriedly reached forward.

"Hey," B.J. said suddenly, "I'm not hungry, either." He pooled his tray in. One after another, the rest of the table added theirs to our pile, until finally each kid had their own tray.

As we watched the children eat and play around with the doctors, especially B.J., I felt a sense of mild wistfulness. I said to Theresa, "Do you ever wonder…"

"What life would be like if we weren't called?" she finished.

"Yes, exactly. I don't regret the sacrifices we have to make, but sometimes I do think about how things could have been. Do you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But I have my sisters and my children- just as you have your own children," she said with a knowing smile.

I chuckled. "An apt description if I ever heard one- just don't let them know I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me," she guaranteed.

_ The party decorations are well on the way by now; the only problem is keeping Col. Potter out of the Mess for the rest of the day. Seeing as how he's so stubborn it's often quite the task to throw a surprise party for him, but we've learned that the trick is to make it so that if there's somewhere we don't want him to go, it's best to make him want to avoid it altogether. Klinger has a special talent for… shall we say, bypassing the Eighth Commandment in that area._

As Klinger entered the mess tent, I hurried over. "What is it? Is he coming?"

"No sir, but it was a close call- he just about came in here for coffee, but I said I'd get it. I'm going to need a few fake emergencies."

"I'm afraid I can't help you there; secret-keeping is one thing, but I'm no good at tall tales. Hawkeye!"

The surgeon came running up, roll of streamers in hand. "What's up?"

"Klinger needs some fake emergencies. Any suggestions?"

"Let's see…" He pondered the problem for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "Get him out on Sophie. When he comes back, say that we're all out of tongue depressors and he needs to call ICOR right away. Put it through on a fake call to Kelly. That should buy us at least an hour or two."

"Good thinking. I'll get right on it." The clerk hurried away.

Hawkeye turned to me. "Help me string some streamers?"

"Gladly." I took one end of the blue tissue paper and got up on a chair, tacking it to the wall. "Try to give it that nice, festive swoop."

"First a priest, now a party planner. You'll be taking the bar next."

"Funny."

"I do my best."

_ The party will be starting soon, Sis so I'm afraid I'll have to go for now. Don't worry; I'll make sure to tell you everything that happens when I get back. It must be funny reading a letter in such quick succession that I've been writing over the course of a day, but I digress. In a few hours, then, sis._

"Alright, everyone, be quiet," Margaret whispered in the darkness. "Here he comes."

We all got down on our hands and knees, hiding in the shadows of the tables, which were all pushed to the side to make room for a dance floor. I, who was hiding next to the piano, cocked my head, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Klinger, I really don't understand why you wanted me to come have a cup of coffee with you so badly," I heard Potter grump, coming down the way.

"Sir, it gets so lonely at this time of the night, and besides, I think it could do you good."

The mess tent doors opened, and Col. Potter turned on the light. In an instant, everyone jumped up and yelled, "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!"

"Holy Cripes!" the colonel yelped, jumping about a foot in the air. As everyone started laughing, he started to grin. "You people scared the bejeezus out of me! Isn't it enough for a man to have just one foot in the coffin?"

Over the sound of general chuckles, Hawkeye spoke up. "We thought our brave and valiant leader deserved a celebration for putting up with all of us." More laughter from the crowds. "Seriously, though, Colonel; I know you're like a second dad to many of us, myself included, so…" He lifted his glass of punch. "Happy Father's Day, Colonel, from all the kids under your command."

"Well, I must say, Pierce," the older man said with a grin. "This is quite the little shindig you folks have thrown together here!"

"Oh, we've got punch, food, even a cake!" Margaret said happily.

"May I do the honor of cutting it?" B.J. asked with a grin.

"You may. Wait." He stopped. "Who baked it?"

"Oh, that was me, sir!" Sr. Clare said happily. The other sisters laughed, nodding in her direction. "We made it extra-large, so all the children could have some, too."

"What a great idea," Potter said. "Good work, Sister." The Korean nun bowed with a smile. "Let's eat!"

I watched with a smile as I sat down to play the piano. As I started in on the Maple Leaf Waltz, I thought about all the fathers back home, living and dead. I watched as B.J. sat down on one of the tables off to the side, and sent a silent prayer to God to lift his spirits. _How difficult it must be, to be so far from one's wife and child._

Some time later, when my fingers were tired out an I'd had my slice of cake, Hawkeye stood up on one of the tables. "Folks, can I have your attention?"

Everyone looked over as he continued. "Now as you all know, you chipped in some money each to get Col. Potter a gift, and we'd like to give it to him now."

We all let out a collective cheer and started clapping. Margaret and Klinger brought forward the large gift, which was wrapped in the funnies from old newspapers. The colonel's eyes misted over as he unwrapped it to reveal a brand-new tack set for Sophie, and I smiled to see him so moved. He cleared his throat. "Well, folks, this might be the best damn Father's Day I've ever had away from home. You people are really something special."

"Likewise!" I called, and everyone started clapping.

"I can't wait to use this new brush on Sophie. Thank you," he said, turning to myself and the rest of the senior staff. "You guys are- are real good people."

The rest of the crowd went back to dancing and talking. I was about to join them when Hawkeye called, "Hold up, folks, we're not done yet."

They turned again, surprised. I frowned, a little confused. Hawkeye hadn't discussed this with us.

"Now uh, most of you folks who have families back home make sure they get appreciated," Hawkeye continued. "B.J. got some little things from Erin and Peg; I sent my dad some stuff; Margaret wrote a letter to her father; and I know all the rest of you did something or other, too. But see, there are some fathers out there whose families never really thank them- maybe because sometimes, they don't realize they're part of a family at all. But today, we're going to change that." He looked over at me. "Father Mulcahy, we know that men of the cloth deserve as much respect and appreciation as any father, but for whatever reason nobody's thought up of a holiday for priests, so tonight we want to honor all the work you do here for us… your 4077th family."

My eyes brimmed with tears, and I took my glasses off, wiping them embarrassedly. "Th-thank you, Hawkeye. That means a lot," I said thickly.

"We're not through yet, Father. Beej, you got the gift?"

"Right here." The doctor pressed something large, flat and thick into my hands. I took it, surprised. "What is it?"

"Open it and tell us."

I undid the newspaper wrapping. As it fell to the ground, I felt my heart stop.

"Oh my God…" I whispered.

"What is it?" someone called from the back.

I looked up, still in disbelief. "It's- it's a Papal Blessing," I said, stunned. "Pope Pius XII has blessed my ministry." I turned to Hawkeye and B.J., who were smiling proudly. "H-how did you…?"

"You remember that Italian troop that came through a few months ago?" B.J. asked. "We got to talking to some of those boys, and one of them said his family was good friends with a cardinal, who'd pulled a few strings to get his parents' marriage blessed."

"We don't know much about religious stuff, but we figured if they could do it for a marriage they could do it for priests," Hawkeye said with a grin. "We asked if he could put in a good word for you and gave him your information. This came in a few weeks ago, but we decided to save it for tonight."

I looked down at the blessing, and then up again. This time, I couldn't stop the tears from spilling over my eyes and down my cheeks. I laughed, overjoyed, and hugged the two. "I-I don't even know how to thank you for this!"

"Consider it our thanks," B.J. said with a smile. "Happy Father's Day, Father."

The whole mess tent filled with applause, and I realized with a certain kind of wonder and elation that indeed, my flock- my children- really did care.

_I have no way to verbally describe the outcome of that party, Sis, so I'll simply enclose a picture and allow you the delight of understanding it yourself. May God bless you and your work, and I wish you all the joy and happiness in the world._

_ Your brother in both name and in Christ,_

_ -Francis John Patrick Mulcahy_


End file.
